You sat at the edge of the bathroom tub, the small white stick trembling in your hand. Two pink lines stared back at you like a secret you weren’t ready to face. The room felt too quiet, too still — the kind of silence that comes before something big.

You didn’t even hear Yelena come in.

“Hey, why are you hiding in here?” she asked from the doorway, her tone light but her eyes sharp. When you didn’t answer, her steps softened. “What’s wrong?”

You swallowed hard, trying to speak, but your voice caught in your throat. You just held up the test.

Her brow furrowed. Then she froze. “Is that—?”

You nodded, barely breathing.

For a long moment, she said nothing. Just stared at you, expression unreadable. Then she let out a low exhale and crossed the small space to kneel in front of you.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “You are not alone. You hear me?”

Your lip trembled. “Lena, I— I don’t even know what to do.”

“Shh.” She rested a steady hand on your knee, grounding you. “You breathe first. Then we figure it out. Together.”

You laughed shakily through the tears. “You’re not freaking out.”

“Oh, I am,” she said dryly, a tiny smile breaking through. “But one of us has to be the calm one. It is me this time, apparently.”

Her eyes softened as she reached up, brushing a tear from your cheek. “You are strong,” she murmured. “You always have been. This… this will not break you.”

And just like that, with Yelena kneeling in front of you, her thumb tracing slow circles against your hand, the fear didn’t feel so crushing anymore.